Never Alone
by Mentz
Summary: After Kutner's untimely passing, House decides to confide in Cuddy. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** While it would be nice, I don't own House.

**A/N:** This was inspired by Simple Explanation. There's not much to say about it, really. Just a little one-shot fic with House and Cuddy talking, mostly.

* * *

Hearing the door to her office open with a soft _click_, the dean of medicine glanced up from the paperwork she was filling out. She was quietly surprised to see House standing there, Cuddy had half expected it to be one of the nurses or, well... Anyone but House. Normally the diagnostician would barge into her office and go on a longwinded explanation about why he needed approval for some insane and highly invasive test. But not today.

"You were right," was the only thing that came out of House's mouth. Glancing at the floor, he tapped his cane against the carpet a few times before bringing himself to look up at Cuddy.

"About what?"

"About me being similar to Kutner," House was mumbling now. It wasn't hard to tell that he'd forced himself to swallow his pride.

"House... Why? What happened?" Cuddy questioned, suddenly looking extremely concerned... And she was. It wasn't like House to admit _anything_ of the sort, especially not to her.

"Nothing," a pause followed that lone word. The diagnostician was mentally kicking himself for saying that. He'd talked himself into telling Cuddy the truth, and he was already going against it. "Okay, so I lied," he stopped again. This was harder than he originally thought it was going to be. "Well... You know how I said living in misery was better than dying in it?"

"Yeah, I remember..."

"I was thinking about it... Kutner had the right idea," at that comment, Cuddy gave a barely audible gasp.

"You don't mean that... You were..." Cuddy couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence. Just the thought of losing House killed her. She knew he had been miserable, hell, he had been for years, but... This?

"Guess so. Living in misery is intolerable. At least dying is an easy way out," the diagnostician's voice was quiet. He glanced around the office looking anywhere but at Cuddy. Eventually he looked over at the dean again, but only for a split moment. Before she had the time to question him, House decided to explain things on his own terms. "The physical pain is killing me, almost literally. Then there's the Vicodin..." House trailed off with a frown. This was the first time that he openly, and honestly, admitted to actually having a problem with the Vicodin. It didn't take a genius to realize he had one, however. "But it's not that."

"What is it?" There was a rustle from behind the dean's desk as she stood. She took a few small steps around the clutter of boxes that she had placed near her desk earlier before walking over to House. Not wanting to invade his personal space, Cuddy kept her distance. The last thing she wanted to do right now was scare House off... It was a _good_ thing that he was finally admitting to having problems, she didn't want to stop him.

"... It doesn't matter."

"It **does** matter. You've already come so far. Please..." Now stepping over to him, she placed a gentle hand on House's arm. Cuddy looked up at him, almost to the point of tears; it was hard hearing him speak like this.

House resisted the urge to pull away from the dean and head straight for the door. It seemed like the easiest thing to do, but... Wanting to take the easy way out was how he landed himself in this situation in the first place. He shifted his weight on his feet just slightly. "I'm... Tired of being alone," that alone was the single, most difficult thing for the diagnostican to admit. After a rocky upbringing, House vowed to never show any signs of weakness. ... Until now.

"Greg..." Cuddy carefully wrapped her arms around House, almost as if she was scared of breaking him. She rested against him softly, her face half buried in his jacket. "You'll never be truly alone."

For the first time in years, House felt tears of gratitude roll down his cheeks. It had been the first time in his life that he had exposed himself emotionally and _not_ have someone bring him down because of it. Wrapping his left arm around Cuddy's waist in a slightly awkward return hug, the diagnostician couldn't help but let a small smile cross his lips. "Thank you."


End file.
